Sweet Chimera
by Realisation
Summary: H/Hr + D/G (in later chapters) Chapter 2: Shocking history behind the ring Harry gave to Hermione is revealed; Ron gets angry, and Ginny plans revenge. R&R & I will give you candy.
1. strange infatuation

Urk. This took me long enough. It's all right, I suppose. If there are spelling errors (or grammar mess-ups, or blatant canon malfunctions) let me know in a review, please. Please-oh-please review, because I'll love you for, um, ever. Forever. Yes.  
~clockwisevenus

**Stuff:**  
    +H/Hr  
    +R * Hr  
    +G * H  
    +Rated R for adult themes/situations

^*^*^*^

    Harry couldn't help but smile as he watched Hermione make her away around Diagon Alley, looking like a Muggle child in a candy store.

    "Don't you see?" she said, weaving around fellow witches and wizards as she looked into all the windows, pressing her fingertips against the glass eagerly before turning and dashing to the next shop. "Next summer we can come here by ourselves, there won't be any school--we'll be able to do what we want, when we want--"

    She stopped suddenly, peering into one of the many windows she had passed. Harry glanced up to look at the shop name. It was a jewellery shop, and one he had never noticed in his previous trips to Diagon Alley. Then again, he didn't often look at jewellery, so he was quite possibly guilty of simply overlooking it.

    Hermione was staring at a ring cushioned on a plush blue pillow. It had a silvery band with a small, whitish jewel in the centre of a circle of what looked like diamonds. The round piece in the centre seemed to both suck light in and reflect it at the same time, shimmering many different colours against its pearly background.

    "It looks terribly expensive," she said morosely, her eyes still glued in the same spot, "but do you think we could just go in and look at it? It's so elegant..."

    He smiled, opening the door to the shop for her, and she immediately rushed to the counter.

    "Excuse me," she said, pointing toward the ring, "how much is that ring in the window--the one on the blue pillow?"

    The cashier casually named a sum--a very high sum, and Hermione's face fell.

    "Hermione," Harry said, "why don't you try it on? That way you'll at least get to see how it looks on you."

    She began to protest, but the man had already moved away from the counter and was returning with the squashy blue pillow, upturning it and dropping the ring into Hermione's hand.

    She looked at Harry with uncertainty for a moment before slipping it on her left ring finger and almost immediately removing it.

    "Wait!" he cried, grabbing her hand and replacing the ring.

    "Oh, Harry, don't I look horrible in such ornate things--I'm too plain--" she said helplessly, trying to squirm away and get out of his grasp.

    "Nonsense, he said directly, turning her hand back and forth in the light. "It looks beautiful." He turned to the man, who had moved behind the counter again. "How much did you say--never mind--I'll take it."

    "Harry," she said again, weakly this time.

    He pointed to a delicate silver chain in the glass counter-box. "I'll take that, too." The cashier removed it without saying a word and handed both items to Harry. "Thanks," he said, dumping a handful of Galleons onto the counter.

    He fumbled with the clasp on the chain until he managed to get it open. He slipped the ring onto it and looped it around her neck, fastening the clasp again and releasing it. "Keep that under your robes," he advised, leaning close to speak confidentially. "Ron will absolutely bludgeon me if he knows I bought you a ring."

    "Don't be silly, Harry, why would he do that?" For someone of such intelligence, Hermione was incredibly dense about social things--especially social things dealing with her two best friends who shared a common desire above all others: her. Harry and Ron were both too loyal to each other to openly vie for her attentions, of course, but they had made a pact during their fifth year that if Hermione ever chose one of them, the other would do his best not to interfere.

    Harry, however, knew how temperamental Ron was, and had no urgent longing to find out how bad he was at "doing his best" at anything.

    "It's a long story," he said finally. "Just let it suffice that he would kill me."

    "Thank you, Harry," she smiled, squeezing him tightly around the middle. "It was sweet of you to buy this for me, so I won't tell Ron in exchange. We'll be sort-of even."

    He shrugged, feeling self-conscious as his face began to heat. "It was nothing. Just think of it as a gift."

    "Harry," Hermione laughed, "it is a gift."

    "Yeah," he said. "Right, it is."

    "Look, Harry!" she said gleefully, pointing toward the ice cream boutique down the street, where Ron was standing. "There he is now! Come on," she grinned, grabbing him by the wrist. "We'll go meet him."

    Somehow Ron always managed to grow several inches over the summer; he towered over Harry, who towered over Hermione, but his height didn't inspire fear unless he meant it to. Ron could be terrifying when he wanted to be, but his presence was, overall, more gentle than it was commanding.

    He still stood out in a crowd, several inches taller than almost everyone, and with his flaming red hair, he was difficult to miss.

    The hug he gave Harry could have probably crushed his ribs, had Harry not gasped out, "Ron, Harry can't--breathe now."

    "What, you're talking in third person now?" he asked, slapping Harry heavily on the back while the shorter boy tried to catch his breath.

    "When the oxygen flow to my brain is suddenly cut off, I think it's understandable if I start to talk in third person," he said, waving Ron's hand away. "Excuse me while I regenerate my cells."

    "Have you gotten your school supplies yet?" Hermione asked eagerly, thus changing the subject to her favourite--books. "Harry and I met up at the entrance. Lucky, huh?" She was beaming.

    "Uh, no, actually--about the books," Ron said sheepishly, adding hopefully, "have you?"

    Hermione shook her head. "I just did a little bit of window shopping on the way here. I'm sorry we took so long."

    "Yeah, I'm sorry if we kept you waiting," Harry interjected, feeling left out of Starry Eye Ron's conversation with the Oblivious Hermione.

    "It's fine," Ron said sleepily, gazing happily at Hermione, who was meandering off toward the school-related section of Diagon Alley.

    "Ron," Harry hissed, elbowing the gangly redhead in the ribs perhaps a bit harder than was absolutely necessary, "your mouth is gaping open and I do believe that you've started to drool."

    Ron blinked as if he was clearing his head of a fog or a light hail or, more than likely, a bloody snowstorm. Then he said simply, "Oh, right," and pulled his tongue back into his mouth before following Hermione down the cobbled street.

    By the end of the day, Harry had clearly remembered why Ron frustrated him so much even though they were best friends. For every gape and gawk he made at Hermione, Harry wanted to hit him, stand him up straight and apologize properly, and then hit him again. What stopped him was the fact that Hermione would hit, kill, or worse yet dislike him if he did anything of the sort.

    It was terribly maddening, really. Especially when Ron had made that completely obvious stare at Hermione's bum and hadn't moved for at least fifteen whole--he really had to stop thinking before it became a danger to his mental health.

    Needless to say, when they reached the Burrow, Harry's jaw ached terribly from all the clenching and unclenching it had been doing, and he had a downright awful tic in his left eye.

    Ginny disappeared whenever Harry was around, as usual. He always thought it was strange that even after he had saved her life during his second year, she ignored him.

    Harry, of course, was as unaware of Ginny's feelings for him as Hermione was of both Ron's and Harry's poorly concealed sentiments.

    "Ooh," Hermione said, leaning out the back door and staring into the lawn at the tables and chairs that the twins were setting up. "I'm starving."

    "It's just sandwiches and sides, I think," Ron said, "but Mum makes some of the best roast beef sandwiches I've ever had. Unless you carry them all about London and they get all squashy and soggy."

    Harry smiled. "Yeah, I'd suspect they wouldn't be so tasty by that point."

    "Ron!" Molly called from the kitchen. "Get Fred and George and come here, please."

    "Take over for us," Fred said as he walked through the door past Hermione and then past Harry, and he tossed a tablecloth into Harry's arms and grinned.

    "'Kay," he said agreeably, and Hermione offered to assist him, a proposal which he accepted gratefully.

    "It's very calm here, isn't it?" Hermione remarked as they stretched a tablecloth over one of the long tables. "I like it. It's really rather relaxing, and it makes me feel at home, you know?"

    "I know," he smiled, tucking the edges of the cloth up under the table. "It's far better than--"

    "Oh, no, Harry," Hermione interrupted him, grabbing his wrist.

    He jerked his head up, slightly surprised. "What?"

    Using his hand as leverage, she pulled him closer and kissed him quickly across the table.

    Ginny leaned farther out of her window, squinting her eyes, trying to see if Hermione had just done what she thought she had done. She had just kissed Harry full on the mouth. Ginny turned and clomped down the stairs as fast as she could.

    "Ron!" she hissed, beckoning him over to the stairs. "Harry," she said quietly, "and Hermione. In the backyard. Kissing." To her utter disgust, her brother laughed at her.

    "That's absurd," he chuckled.

    "I just saw them!" she said furiously, gesturing at the door.

    He shook his head and took her by the arm. "Let's go take a look, shall we?"

    This was pointless. Ron knew as well as she did that if Harry and Hermione had been kissing in the back they would not have gone on with it for very long. Neither of them were idiots. Ron had an incredibly poor sense of logic if he thought that Ginny didn't know what he was doing.

    "See?" he said simply, speaking through his smile as they walked outside. He smiled at Ginny, ignoring her smouldering glare.

    "We were about to come inside," Hermione said, and Ginny noticed that her gaze lingered on Harry (who was looking rather shocked) before it turned to Ron. "We've finished setting the table."

    The remainder of the evening passed without too much excitement, and Harry found himself growing more tired with every move he made. Unfortunately, as soon as his head made contact with his pillow, he found that he could not, no matter how many times he tossed and turned, fall asleep. Ron, on the other hand, seemed to have had no problem with it, his even breathing sounding far louder to Harry than he knew it was.

    Yes, he was dreadfully sleepy, but he couldn't stop thinking about Hermione's rather unexpected kiss. Had she meant it? Had he responded in the proper way? Why, for the love of God, had she chosen that moment out of all others?

    While he was still mulling over that single event, the door to Ron's room swung open. He could tell by the long hair that it was either Ginny or Hermione that was leaning into the room.

    "Ginny?" he whispered. "Ron's asleep."

    "It's not Ginny," Hermione said, her voice equally low in volume. "I'm not looking for Ron. I wanted to know if you'd like to come for a walk with me." She paused. "I'd like to talk to you, if it's all right. If you're tired, we can go tomorrow night..."

    Harry sat up and put on his glasses and rolled into a standing position, leaning over Hermione's shoulder to peek down the darkened hall. "Is everybody asleep?" Hermione shrugged and nodded. "Let's go," he said, moving past her and reaching back to grab her hand.

    Hermione quietly closed the front door, covering her mouth to muffle a laugh as she took Harry's hand back into hers. Then they ran until Harry feared that his lungs were going to cease to work, and they both collapsed into the grass and laughed, and Harry felt for just a moment that this was what a child must feel like after disobeying his mum. He took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, drawing his hand over his nose and his mouth to refresh himself.

    "Harry," Hermione said, still a soft giggle in her voice, "we're friends, right? I mean, we've always been friends. And," she said, rolling over and folding her arms over his chest and resting her chin against them, "we'll always be friends. No matter what happens, or what decisions we make, isn't that right?"

    He smiled. "Of course. You and me and Ron, we're the best of friends. All of Hogwarts knows it--even the Slytherins, you can ask anyone."

    "But what about us?" she pouted. "Just the two of us--you know, not including Ron. What are we?"

    "The two of us," he repeated slowly. "The two of us are..." he frowned. "Am I supposed to be judging our relationship before or after you kissed me today?"

    Hermione frowned. "Does it matter?"

    "Of course it matters!" he said. "I mean, was that an 'oh, Harry, you're such a good friend' kiss or was it an 'oh, Harry, I'd absolutely love to snog you senseless' kiss? It matters. That's...I mean, it's sort of a turning point, depending on what kind of kiss it was."

    "Isn't it only a turning point if it was a snoggy sort of kiss?"

    "Hermione," he sighed, "just answer the bloody question."

    "Would you mind if I kissed you again?"

    Harry blinked. "Well, ah. I suppose not."

    Hermione smiled. "Then that makes the two of us more than friends, doesn't it? I mean, if you wouldn't mind me kissing you and I'd actually like to kiss you, that means there's something more."

    Harry stared at her, dumbfounded. "That means there's been something more for years now--on my side, anyway," he added quickly. "I don't presume that you...God, I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore," he laughed.

    "I'm so glad," she said, clinging fast to him. "I thought that if I spent enough time around you that you'd eventually notice me, but I thought I'd realise it when you did."

    "Years," Harry said, his voice soft with wonder. "There have been so many years that I could have been with you like this. Do you think it's been a waste of our time?"

    Hermione shook her head briefly and propped herself up on her elbows, leaning forward to press her lips against his. "I think we can make up for it," she said. "I also think," she said, kissing him again, "that we should start now."

    Harry found himself wondering how exactly Hermione had learned to kiss, but then realised that he didn't really care, it was a minor issue because the truly important thing was that he was feeling very, very tingly and he was fairly sure that this certain tingling sensation was a bad thing given the circumstances.

    Suddenly, he made the connexion between the quickening of his heartbeat and Hermione's hand, which had undone the tie strings of his pyjamas and was sliding beneath the elastic waistband.

    He managed to choke out the word "wait," relieved when Hermione removed her hand and leaned back. As he moved to support himself with a hand, he had to swallow hard, trying to force himself to ignore Hermione's state of undress. "What if someone finds out?" he asked, knowing that it sounded like a petty excuse.

    "Harry," she said logically, "how would anyone find out? Nobody's going to come out here at night except us. We're seventeen years old, Harry, we're not children anymore. It's only natural," she added, and she sounded like she knew what she was talking about. It was natural, wasn't it? Desire was part of human nature. It was an innate emotion.

    With the moon behind her, Hermione was almost nothing more than a silhouette framed in white. He could make out her pyjama top well enough to tell that it was unbuttoned, could see the smooth skin of her stomach, and his gaze travelled upward. "Are you cold?" he asked, sliding an arm around her middle to pull her back to him.

    "Keep me warm, Harry," Hermione breathed as he slid her top from her shoulders.

    Yes, Harry decided as Hermione's mouth opened easily under his, this was most certainly a natural thing. His sudden pang of absolute need to be a part of her was, he feared, about to drive him mad. Their positions had somehow been reversed while he was thinking so that his body was arched over hers, pinning her neatly under him. He couldn't remember rolling over, but it wasn't all that important when he tried to think about it...

    "You're sure?" he asked, partly for reassurance and partly to make sure that it was Hermione he had been kissing after all, and not some phantom, some illusion of the girl that he had wanted this way for so long.

    Her answer was to kiss him frantically until he was breathless, pulling him so tight against her that he was afraid he would smother her.

    "Is that a 'yes'?" he inquired, panting for breath.

    Hermione's response was verbal this time, and the single word had more of an effect on him than any one word he could remember, despite its simplicity. "Yes," she said, a sapphire intimation moving to add colour to the night.

***

    Ginny yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "Hermione?" she whispered, fumbling for her wand to shed some light. "Hermione," she said louder, "do you have your wand? I can't find--" then her fingers found her wand in the dark, and she grasped it, muttering _Lumos_ quickly.

    She frowned. Hermione was staying in her rooms, but she was gone, her blankets seemingly thrown to the floor in a hurry. Ginny's door was still ajar, and she slipped through it, making her way quickly to Ron's room, shielding the wandlight with her hand so as to not wake anyone else in the house.

    "Ron!" she hissed, shining the light in his face. "Wake up. Wake up!"

    "Urgh," he said in weak protest, his voice blurry with sleep as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. "What is it?"

    "Harry and Hermione are gone," she said, shining her wandlight over Harry's bedding to prove it. "I told you they were together," she hissed, gritting her teeth. "You didn't believe me. I _told_ you." 


	2. seems to grace the evening tide

**A/N**: Yes, bologna & cucumber is actually a sandwich combination, and my own dear mum used to make it for me. She still does sometimes, actually. It's quite tasty if it's made properly. In short, you slice a cucumber, take out the seeds if you aren't fond of them, and put the cucumber slices along with a slice of bologna on a piece of bread. Sounds _delicious_, eh?

    Half of this was written in Microsoft Word, but I got a new (well, not so new--I suppose _different_ is the word for which I search) computer halfway through writing it. My _different_ computer does not have Word installed on it currently (it is evident in the quotations and such), so I am stuck with Notepad and Jarte, which does not have a very good spell-check. I sometimes type too fast to think properly (hence the convoluted style and spelling/grammar errors); inform me of anything glaringly obvious that I've botched (please-and-thank you).

    I throw everything that is good and canon out the window in this chapter, I believe--and if not in this chapter, then certainly in the ones to come. If that isn't your cup of tea, then I suggest you drink elsewhere. People who review are nice. Don't you want to be nice?  
**~cwv**

I know you've got me wrapped around your finger  
I know you want the sin without the sinner  
I know, I know  
I know the past will catch you up as you run faster  
I know the last in line is always called a bastard  
_Placebo - I Know_

^*^*^*^

    Harry yawned, reaching out blindly for Hermione's hand and squeezing it gently. "You wore it?" he asked, and it was plain that he was talking about the ring on her finger.

    "Just for tonight," she said, her breath tickling his neck. "Nobody's going to see it. I'll take it off when we get back to the Burrow. It's just that it was so pretty…I couldn't help putting it on again."

    "You're lucky Ron didn't wake up when you came in," Harry said, twirling a strand of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. "He's in love with you, you know."

    "Ron's not in love with me," she said softly. "He may think that he is, but he's disillusioned--he's spent so much time around one girl that he's tricked himself into thinking that he's fallen in love." She sat up and turned to pick her pyjama top up, brushing stray blades of grass from its surface before pulling it on. "Let's not talk about that now, Harry. I'd rather think of happier things."

    Harry smiled. "Like what?"

    "Like you giving me a piggy-back ride back to the Burrow," she said hopefully, a tiny smile playing briefly across her lips.

    He laughed, pushing himself to his feet. "There's no chance," he told her, shaking his head. "I'm not sure if I can even carry myself that far."

    Hermione, of course, did convince Harry to carry back to the Burrow--it took hardly any effort on her part. When they arrived at the fence that outlined the property, however, they received a quite unwelcome shock.

    "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ron asked, jumping off of the fence and striding forward resolutely.

    "Coming back from a late-night stroll?" Harry asked in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone. He felt Hermione's arms tighten nervously around his shoulders.

    Harry could swear Ron almost _snarled_ at him. "I found them, Ginny," he barked over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving Harry's.

    There was a tiny yelp as Ginny stumbled into view. She stopped behind the fence, glancing back at the house before turning back to Ron, Harry, and Hermione. "What are you doing?" she asked quietly, nervousness hanging on the edge of her voice and making it tremble. "Come back inside…"

    "You must think I'm stupid, Harry."

    "Ron," Harry began helplessly, letting Hermione drop to the ground. He took a half step towards his friend. "You can't hold something like this against us--"

    "Oh, I think I bloody well can, _Harry_," he hissed. "You slept with her in what's practically my backyard and then you just trundle along home and expect that I--that I won't _care_!"

    Harry stomped his foot angrily. "It's not like you haven't done the same damned thing! You bloody well slept with _Parvati_, Ron, you ought to be--"

    Ginny looked frantically back and forth between Harry and Ron. Harry clamped his mouth shut, regretting that he had said anything--She had evidently not heard about Ron's tryst with Parvati.

    "Well I'm not Harry-bloody-Potter, am I? I'm allowed to be a teenager with out-of-control hormones, but you--you're better than that," he said, his voice softening. "At least," he added, his eyes narrowing again, "I thought you were."

    "Leave him alone!" Hermione demanded, stepping in front of Harry defensively, her fists clenched at her waist purposefully, despite the way the rest of her was shaking.

    Ron caught the glint of his wandlight in the diamond on Hermione's ring. His jaw dropped as he reached forward, prying Hermione away from Harry. He held her hand closer to his eyes, ignoring the fact that Hermione had dropped her courageous pretence and had started crying freely now.

    "Is this an engagement ring?" he asked, staring past Hermione to Harry. Hermione was squirming to remove her wrist from Ron's grasp, whimpering in pain as he tightened his hold on her.

    Ginny squeaked, her eyes locking with Harry's. Harry shook his head feebly, his mouth opening and closing irresolutely. "I have to go," Ginny said, turning to dash away, her tongue tripping over the words she had said too quickly.

    "Please, Ron," Hermione choked out. She had planted her heels in the ground and was bending forwards but leaning backwards--if Ron let go she would fall, but she was pulling away from him with all of her weight and did not seem to care. He did not seem to notice, reaching to touch what he thought was an engagement ring.

    Harry watched in confusion--Hermione's pleading was almost unintelligible at that point, coming out in slurs. _PleaseRonpleaseohnoyoudon'tknowpleasepleasepleaseRonI'mbeggingyoudon't--_

    When he finally slipped it from her finger, he released her and she tumbled backwards immediately. She did not move except to curl into herself, choking sobs tearing from her body.

    "You won't find anything," she said eventually, after Ron had nearly exhausted himself peering at the ring. Her voice was hoarse and oddly dull as she stared at the ground and shook without reserve, her hair impossibly tangled. "It's not an engagement ring." Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper, still sounding empty, like a hammer clanging against metal. "It's just a ruddy charm."

    "_What?_" Ron asked, fumbling a bit and dropping the ring but catching it before it hit the ground.

    "What?" Harry whispered, an echo of Ron.

    "An Enticement Charm," Hermione said, and even Ron thought she sounded vaguely broken. "I'm so sorry, Harry."

    _Of course,_ Harry thought grimly. _Of course she wouldn't sleep with me. It was a charm._ "Ron," he said slowly, "would you please...?"

    "Sod off, yeah," he said, and it seemed the two boys had formed a truce of sorts for the moment. He placed the ring on a fence post and then leapt over the railing, loping back to the house.

    Harry knelt next to Hermione and slowly rolled back over his heels, sitting next to her as she kept moaning, "Oh, Harry, I'm _so sorry_," until he did not think he could bear it any longer.

    "I wish you had told me," he said. "But I'm sorry for taking something so precious from you."

    "Harry, you don't understand," she said, glancing up and meeting his eyes for the first time.

    Harry shook his head. "Look, I understand that it was a charm and that you'd rather have had your first time with someone more--more--_not me_," was all he could say in the end, and although it was not what he had meant to say it was definitely what he had been thinking.

    "No!" she gasped, looking almost like it pained her to hear him say it. "No, I wanted you," she said, and after her initial outburst she had reverted to looking horribly ashamed. When she spoke again her voice was small and withdrawn. "It was an Enticement Charm, Harry; don't you know what _enticement_ means?"

    Harry shook his head dumbly.

    "Well, it sort of eggs you on and gives you more courage than you would have under normal circumstances. I wanted to be with you but I couldn't ever figure out how to let you know. And I couldn't tell you I once I had the courage to actually admit that I'm in love with you, and--" she stopped again before saying weakly, "I'm so sorry."

    "You love me," he repeated slowly, the words somehow feeling like they fit properly together.

    "Yes," she confirmed. "I just wish it all could have happened under different--different circumstances. It was like euphoria, though--I can't explain it." She was not looking at him again; her eyes had nervously darted to the ring still on the fence post.

    Harry smiled. "I'm not sure that was all the ring." He swallowed, gathered his courage and added softly, "It was a rather euphoric experience for me too."

    After Hermione realised that Harry did not hate her for being selective with the truth, that he did not care if she had been under the influence of a rogue charm when she had finally given herself over to him, she leapt at him, now-silent tears running down her cheeks.

    "Just--follow through without the ring next time," he said, and it won a small chuckle out of her.

    Hermione smiled gratefully at him. "I think I can manage that."

***

    At the moment, Ginny could not believe how much she hated Harry Potter. She leaned against her door, her hand still clutching the knob as her heart beat feverishly in her chest. She felt as if it would momentarily burst and that she would be all the better off for it. After all, who needed a heart?

    It had done nothing so far in her life except to get her into terrible trouble (or near-death situations). First Tom--all of her _Dear Tom_s and her _you're the only one who understands me, Tom_s and the award-winning _Oh, Tom, I'm so very glad that I have someone like you to listen to me_--and now Harry...

    Harry with his Head Boy badge and before that his prefect badge and before that he was simply shining green eyes and mussy hair and a deep, pleasing laugh that penetrated her to her very _core_--and even before then when he was just scrawny, scraggly, underfed, and nervous Harry, it had been enough for her. Harry had always been enough for her, but she had never been enough for him.

    He was Hermione's now, in full. Too many times, Ginny had plotted and planned and thought about exactly how she would confess her love--it all seemed so trivial now. But why hadn't she seen it before? Ron was so obviously in love with Hermione, so how could Harry, his best friend, have been able to hide it all that time? Everything else showed so clearly on his face. And _honestly_, what was so special about Hermione, anyway?

    Ginny was aware of the fact that she herself was not going to win any beauty contests with her red hair, pale skin, thin form, and more freckles than there were stars in the sky--but Hermione was not much better, with her bushy hair and...well, her bushy hair. That was actually about it. Now that Ginny thought about it, Hermione _was_ rather pretty--she had a heart-shaped face and lips just pouty enough to be attractive instead of simpering, and had actually gotten slightly chesty over the years (completely unfair as Ginny had not), facts which Ron had pointed out to Ginny many times.

    _Thank you for sharing,_ Ginny had always said, but each remark about Hermione was like a thorn in her side. It was nearly impossible to stand being around Ron for long because he would inevitably start spouting off nonsense about how Hermione possessed _limpid pools_ for eyes, which was when Ginny absolutely had to intervene and inform him _for the last time, her eyes are brown. Pools are not brown_.

    And now she had to share a room with Hermione for the remainder of the holiday.

    _Perfect._

***

    "Ginny?" Hermione whispered, tiptoeing into their room. She could tell from the younger girl's breathing that she was not asleep. She was obviously ignoring her. "Look, Ginny, I'm sorry. I know you must hate me now, but--"

    "Please don't talk to me right now," Ginny said flatly, loathing strewn in her voice, her shoulders tensing under her quilt.

    Hermione gnawed nervously on her bottom lip as she crept under her covers. "All right," she said quietly.

    Down the hall, Harry was having better luck.

    "Is she okay?" Ron asked immediately, jumping to his feet.

    "Don't get your knickers in a twist," Harry joked gently. "She's fine."

    Ron nodded and seated himself, although he still looked a bit fidgety. "So she's not mad at you?" Harry could not tell if Ron was pleased or disappointed.

    "No," Harry said, swallowing. "Are _you_ angry with me?"

    Ron thought for a while. "I think that in a part of my heart, I'll always be in love with Hermione," Ron admitted slowly. "But I reckon I'm glad it's you who's with her, Harry. If it was anyone else, I don't think I could stand it."

    After Ron's outburst, Harry was surprised the redhead was even speaking with him. He knew how hard it was for Ron to talk to him about this, and he could not imagine himself in Ron's place.

    "I don't want this to cause any sort of rift in our friendship, though. I suppose I'm more scared of it not being the three of us anymore--it's always been you, 'Mione, and me, but now you and Hermione are going to become Harry-and-Hermione--like, interdependent, or--just one person, or something, and it'll be two of us instead of three." He wet his lips with his tongue, shuffling his feet on the thickly carpeted floor. "They say that three's a crowd, but maybe two's more crowd than company."

    "Ron," Harry swallowed nervously, not quite sure what to say. "It's true that we'll probably become more dependent on each other, but we already depend on you. You're our backbone; you're my best friend and you're her friend too, and you'll always be that. This isn't coming out the way I want it to," he said apologetically, utterly frustrated. "It's just...while Hermione and I might be closer than we were, we won't forget about you. I promise," he added, standing. "Still friends?" he asked hopefully, holding his hand out to Ron.

    Ron glanced from Harry's hand to his face several times, no doubt checking for resolve. "Yeah," he agreed finally, clasping Harry's hand tightly in his own.

    "You'll find someone," Harry said soothingly, sitting down on the floor where his bedding was laid out. "You just have to look."

    Ron snorted. "I bloody well doubt that. But thanks."

***

    Harry and Hermione managed not to paw at each other in public for nearly the remainder of the holiday. Ginny still refused to speak to Hermione and only granted short answers to Harry. It had gotten so tiring that in the station, after Hermione and Ginny had passed through the barrier, Harry held Ron back.

    "Look," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, "I know Ginny's about to blow a fuse if she hangs about us any longer, and frankly I'm tired of walking on eggshells as well. I think it'd be best if Hermione and I used a different compartment." _We're just doing this to look out for Ginny's best interest and not out of the desire to climb all over each other,_ Harry reminded himself.

    "Okay," Ron said, looking a little hurt. Harry knew Ron could not read his mind--it was preposterous, of course, but he could not help thinking that his redheaded friend's eyes were boring into his skull to see his true intent. "I'll sit with her, then."

    "Er, Ron," Harry said, grabbing his friend's shoulder again. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, "Thanks."

    Ron smiled, not looking nearly so put out now, and ran through the barrier with Harry close behind.

    Hermione smiled, watching Harry fumble to pin his Head Boy badge to his robes as they made their way to the back of the train. Nobody had been surprised when Harry and Hermione had been named Head Boy and Girl, but some had been angry about it (namely the Slytherins, but a few Ravenclaws as well).

    They snatched a compartment near the back where they could finally be alone after a week of being surrounded by Weasleys. It was not that they resented not being able to be together, but the gigantic family could be a bit overpowering at times. Eventually, Harry got so annoyed with his badge that he asked Hermione to fix it for him, which she did gladly, laughing at how flustered he had become simply from trying to pin it to his robes.

    They settled into the compartment after the witch with the snack trolley left, tearing open Chocolate Frogs and Pumpkin Pasties (they both stayed well away from Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, as Hermione had developed terrible luck with them in the past). Somehow eating and laughing gradually turned into feeding each other, which in its own turn changed into a bit of light kissing; and by the time Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle walked in on them, Hermione had clambered into Harry's lap and was only about four articles of clothing away from ravishing him.

    "Hello," Draco said, seemingly at a loss for words. He recovered quickly, however. "Puts out, does she?"

    "Piss off, Malfoy," Harry said, still feeling a little dazed. Afraid his eyes would cross and he would look terribly silly and generally non-threatening if Hermione remained in his lap, he gently nudged her off and stood up, trying to regain his bearings and hoping against hope that his arousal was not too noticeable through his clothes as it would also make him look ridiculous.

    Hermione looked like she would cry soon if Draco did not take his leave. She was already tender enough from the way they had consummated their relationship, and Malfoy's remarks were adding insult to injury.

    "Ooh," Draco said acidly, his gaze moving from Harry to Hermione who was huddled nervously in her seat, embarrassed and red-faced. "Touchy subject, hum?"

    Harry pulled his wand from the pocket of his robes and pressed its tip against Draco's chest in a warning. "I told you, Malfoy," he said softly. "Piss. Off. Get the hell out before I hex all three of you."

    Draco snorted in indifference. "That's not such a good attitude for the _Head Boy_ to be cultivating, is it? We haven't even arrived at school yet and you're already making threats. Tut, Potter." He smirked and jerked his head toward Crabbe and Goyle, a silent order dictating that it was time to leave.

    "Lock the door," Hermione demanded shakily after the Slytherin trio had left. "I don't want anyone else coming in. I can just see the expression Ron's face now..." a small smile was tugging at the corner of her lips.

    Harry sighed and performed a simple locking spell, throwing himself back into the window seat next to Hermione. "Well," he said needlessly, "I didn't like that very much."

    Hermione pressed her lips into a line and nodded in agreement. Harry unwrapped a slightly squashy bologna and cucumber sandwich (Ron had not ever had the heart to tell his mother that he hated the combination, so he simply gave the sandwiches to Harry) and put it up to his mouth.

    "You're actually going to _eat_ that?" Hermione asked, looking at the pink and green mess in horror.

    "Er, yes," Harry said, and took a large bite. "It's quite good," he added with his mouth full. "Want some?" He held it out to her in an offering and she held up her hand immediately, balking.

    "Maybe later," she said, but it looked like she wanted to say _Maybe never_. She was looking a bit green around the gills, Harry noted.

    Harry swallowed and leaned down to deliver Hermione a kiss. She pulled away after a moment, making a face. "Blech," she said, "you taste like bologna."

    "You hate it that much?" he asked musingly. "It's just a lunch meat."

    "When I was a child and going to Muggle schools, my mum fixed my lunch," she explained. "It was bologna and mayonnaise every day for _years_ before I got my Hogwarts acceptance letter. I may have liked it at one point, but now it turns my stomach."

    "Hum," Harry said, setting the offensive sandwich down. "What are your parents like? I've seen them less than a handful of times, really, and you don't talk about them very often."

    Hermione fiddled absently with the hem of one of the sleeves on her robe, frowning. "There's not much to say. They're both dentists; you knew that. Er, they aren't harsh exactly, but they don't shower me with love, either. They're all right, and they were thrilled that I have the opportunity to go to a wizarding school."

    Harry smiled, gathering her into his arms. "Are they very proud of you?"

    Hermione laughed, curling up with her head on his chest and her legs pulled up and tucked comfortably under her. "They're very pleased with the girl they raised," she conceded, "and that girl is very fond of one Harry Potter."

    "Harry Potter's pretty fond of Hermione," he said softly, and she rewarded him with a beatific smile.

***

    The first person to be Sorted was Lavender Brown's little sister, Violet. Harry missed the next few students because of the great cheer which went up at the Gryffindor table as the tiny girl dashed over to her sister. Lavender laughed and hugged her, moving over on the bench to clear some space for her.

    The rest of the Sorting ceremony was a blur, but Harry tried to log away the names of the Gryffindors: Georgianna Burkett, Eric Allan, Benjamin Mosley, Amberli Vaughn...it was too much. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and glanced over to where Hermione was scratching furiously on a piece of parchment. He leaned over her shoulder to peer more closely and saw that she had written down the name of every first year, as Professor McGonagall had called them out.

    "You're so resourceful," he murmured, reaching over to pat her knee appreciatively. She smiled but did not respond until Dumbledore had begun speaking, and then she jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow and gestured for him to look down at the parchment in her lap.

    _Harry Potter,_ it read, _give me three hours tonight, and I'll show you exactly how resourceful I am._

    She was, of course, true to her word. After the festivities finally halted and she lay across him, he began to catch his breath and panted into her ear, "_I think that was more than three hours_."

    Hermione checked the small hands on Harry's bedside clock. "Three and thirty-five extra," she informed him.

***

    Harry groaned at the intrusive knock on the door. His quick glance at the clock told him that it was quite near time to wake up. He rolled out of bed slowly and sleepily pulled on a pair of boxers when the knock at the door came again.

    "Coming," he groaned, making a futile attempt at flattening his hair in case it was a teacher. Since his attentions seemed only to make his hair more unruly, he relented and opened the door, stifling the yawn that was desperately trying to escape his lips.

    "Morning," Ron said pleasantly, peering over Harry's shoulder. "Nice," he commented, nodding appreciatively. "It almost makes me wish I'd done better in school. Or, er," he said, "saved the wizarding world on a yearly basis. Anyway, I thought you and Hermione might want to get up early for the first day, you know, the whole Head Boy and Girl thing. Is she still asleep?"

    "She, uh--she helped me decorate, erm--relocate things to their proper places." He was about to add _she went across the hall to her room after that_, but Hermione chose that inopportune moment to untangle herself from the blanket and sit up, her bare back and shoulders visible.

    She blinked groggily and then smiled at Harry and Ron. "Good morning," she said, apparently unaware of her state of dress.

    "Morning," Ron replied, giving her a brief wave. He took a moment to look Harry over and then bent to mutter confidentially in his ear, "From the look of it, she certainly put you in _your_ proper place."

    "Oi!" Harry shouted, moving to box his friend's ear, but Ron scooted out the door backwards and dashed down the stairs, hooting with laughter. Harry had half a mind to follow him down, but then decided he did not quite like the idea of half of Gryffindor seeing him in nothing but boxers.

    He sighed, turning to Hermione, who was throwing on a robe. "What's our schedule?" he yawned, as she threw on his slippers and stumbled to the door blearily.

    "Er, Herbology with the Ravenclaws--" she said, scooting quickly past him and out the door. "Then I've got Ancient Runes, which means you have Divination, and--Care of Magical Creatures--I think--and Potions with the Slytherins." She fumbled with the doorknob. "Shite," she growled in a most unladylike manner, running past him again and snatching her wand from his bedside table. "_Alohomora_," she intoned, tapping the lock.

    "Don't I even get a morning kiss?" Harry asked hopefully.

    Hermione turned around in her doorway, hands on her hips. "Certainly _not_," she frowned. "I haven't even unpacked my school clothes yet because _someone_," she said, pointing a finger at him, "had the gall to _seduce_ me and then refuse to let me go to my room to unpack my things."

    "My memory must fail me," Harry said, folding his arms over his chest, "because _I_ thought _someone_ leapt on me and tried to shag me in my _armoire_, a motion which I promptly refused and suggested instead that a bed was a more suitable place--"

    "Seduction!" Hermione hissed insistently. "Most definitely seduction."

    "And then," Harry continued, smiling now, "that _someone_ dismissed my _pleas_ to assist her with her own unpacking. Apparently she was too warm and comfortable to move."

    Hermione sniffed, turning her nose up at him. "Nonsense," she said, and closed her door.

***

    Potions was definitely not a good way to end the school day. It made Harry too frustrated and tired to enjoy his dinner--the only comforts were the steadfast presences of Hermione and Ron.

    "Bloody brilliant how you made your potion explode today," Seamus was saying earnestly, leaning across the table to speak avidly to Neville. "Was that on purpose, Nev?"

    Neville's cheeks coloured in embarrassment. "Er, not exactly," he said abashedly.

    "Well, it was brilliant anyway," Seamus said, dismissing it with a wave of his toast. "Nice to start off the year by getting Snape and the Slytherin bunch all hacked off, eh? It's _traditional_, you know." Neville shrugged and nodded in shy agreement.

    Harry smiled. It was really nice to see Neville getting chummy with his housemates--especially Seamus, who also had the tendency to explode things (quite accidentally, of course) as well. It was good to find friends who had similar qualities.

    "Did his potion really--_explode_?" Ginny said to Ron, her voice low.

    Ron guffawed and began to gesture wildly with his fork. "Bloody hell, Gin, his whole _cauldron_ exploded. It was hilarious; I'm just glad it wasn't acidic, or poison..."

    Hermione frowned, glancing down the table. "Half the Gryffindors are missing. Dean and Parvati and a couple of First Years."

    Lavender blanched and dropped her fork, standing up to survey the table.

    "Dean said he had a bit to finish on his Charms summer essay," Seamus said, taking a swig of pumpkin juice.

    A bit of Lavender's colour returned, but she stepped over the bench and leaned to whisper in Hermione's ear. Whatever she said made Hermione's eyes go wide, and she tugged on Harry's sleeve.

    "Come with me," she said, and Ron followed them both out of the Great Hall and up to the Gryffindor Common Room.

    By the time they arrived, Lavender had waylaid Parvati, who was holding a change of clothes in her arms and was headed towards the door.

    "Parvati, you _can't_," Lavender hissed, batting her little sister's hands away from the hem of her skirt. "It's only the first week and you're already--" she pried Violet's hands from her jumper-- "going off to someone's bed. It's downright _whorish_."

    "Lav," Parvati said in lofty tones, "it's best to establish oneself as early as one can. Especially with boys--this way I won't find myself lonely when it comes time for the Yule Ball. They're so fickle, you know. Besides, he's quite handsome."

    "Not _all_ boys are fickle," Lavender scowled.

    Dean Thomas leaned forward, interested. "He isn't in Slytherin, is he?" He balked when Lavender sent him a venomous look. "Er, look at the time," he said, pulling up his sleeve to glance at his wrist. "Late, isn't it?" he said, looking about for a clock upon finding that his wrist was bare.

    "It's only half past eight o'clock," Parvati said, a small, amused smirk curling her lips. "Ravenclaw, actually," she called out as an afterthought as Dean escaped up the stairs.

    Harry, for one, seriously doubted that Parvati would have any trouble finding a date, even if she had not decided to "establish" herself amongst the boys at school. Even in her first few years at Hogwarts, boys crawled all over each other trying to catch her for dances and Hogsmeade trips. If anything, Harry thought, sleeping around would only lessen her chances at finding a date--a _good_ date, anyway.

    "_Handsome_?" Lavender said incredulously. "Bollocks to that!" she shrieked, and her little sister, who had again begun in her attempts at gaining attention, gasped and jumped back as if she had been stung.

    "I'm going to tell _Mummy_!" she said in accusatory tones, pointing a pudgy and shaking finger at her older sister. "And she'll be _angry_," she added needlessly.

    Lavender pursed her lips and glared at her sister, her eyes narrowing, breathing heavily through her nose as she tried to calm herself.

    Ron sighed and went to her aid, looping her arm around Violet's waist and lifting the plump eleven year-old. "Bed-time for First Years," he said, receiving Lavender's grateful smile with a wry one of his own. He nodded toward the portrait hole to where Parvati was heading before he made his way up the stairs with Violet still thrown over his shoulder.

    Lavender cast one last glance to Violet and Ron, who were still trudging slowly up the staircase, and by the time she had turned around, Parvati was gone.

    "I can't find it anywhere," Ron said dejectedly. "I don't know why I picked stress. There has to be a potion to relieve stress. There _has_ to." He had returned from putting Violet to sleep with a pile of books, and, following Dean's example, had promptly started to do his summer homework.

    Harry smiled wryly at him from across the table. "Perhaps you should have done your summer work as is customary."

    Ron cocked an eyebrow at him.

    "Over the summer," Harry sighed.

    Ron rolled his eyes and returned to his book. "Ridiculous," he muttered. "You just sit about locked in a room all summer. I have better things to do than look up magical cures for stress."

    "Non-Magical Maladies and Their Magical Cures," Ginny suggested idly from her seat in front of the hearth.

    "Honestly," Ron continued, not paying her any mind, "look at all these books--I'll never find it in all these bloody books--"

    Ginny turned and repeated herself, slightly louder, her eyebrows drawing close over her eyes in irritation.

    "Maybe Hermione can help you when she gets back from her rounds," Harry said, sucking absently on the end of his quill.

    Ginny stood and walked to her brother, neatly pulled a book from the stack he had gathered from the library, and slammed it in on the tabletop with all her might. "_Non-Magical Maladies and Their Magical Cures_!" she screamed, and everyone in the Common Room turned to stare. "I am so _sick_ of not being listened to!"

    "Oh, Gin," Ron said, his voice thickly patronising. "Just try speaking louder next time."

    She stamped her foot on the ground indignantly. "_Is this loud enough for you_?" she shrieked, vaguely aware of Harry's quiet, _Hush now, you're making a scene._

    "Bloody _hell_," Ginny said furiously, kicking one of the table legs.

    There was an awkward pause after Ginny left the Common Room.

    "You should go after her," Harry said, just as Ron said the same thing to him.

    "She's _your_ sister," he said indignantly.

    "Don't be daft, Harry. Just because she's my sister doesn't mean she listens to a damn thing I say," Ron said logically, opening the volume that Ginny had so graciously thrown in front of him. "Besides, I've got far more work than you."

    Sometimes there was just no arguing with Ron even if you had better points and you were right and he was wrong, because Ron was stubborn and that was all there was to it. Harry made his way out of the Common Room, in order to find out to where Ginny had gone off.

    There was hardly anyone out past nine o'clock--everyone but Prefects and the Head Boy and Girl was terrified of not being able to get back to his or her respective House before the bell for after-hours rang.

    It was close to impossible to locate anything (or any_one_) in the nearly empty castle, and by the time Harry came upon Draco Malfoy, he was anxious enough to enlist his help.

    "Malfoy," Harry said desperately, "have you seen Ginny?"

    "Oh, lost your little Weasel, have you?" Draco said simply, his robes swirling around his feet as he stopped. "I'm terribly sorry. You must be distraught. Does Granger know you're off searching for another girl?"

    "This is useless," Harry snarled. "I should have known not to ask you."

    Ginny, clever Ginny, watched Harry's back as he strode off, knowing from all the years she had observed him that his eyes were blazing brightly with anger. Then she turned her gaze to pristine and pale Malfoy, who was everything that Harry wasn't: innately cool-tempered and conducted, with steely eyes that could freeze mercury, she was sure--and the girl who had been ignored for so many years had an epiphany.

    She suddenly realised how she could exact revenge on Harry, Hermione, and Ron all at once--and Draco Malfoy, with his snow-pale features and matching icy disposition, was the key.

^*^*^*^

**A/N**: Hopefully I can keep my rein pulled tight on Ridiculous&Fandom!Draco, who threatens to escape in everything I write. I make no promises, but perhaps he won't escape for a little while. I will try to keep him nasty and unnecessarily cruel. It is so difficult, though. Oh, wibble and moan.  
**~cwv** (of course) 


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